


Perfection

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Fingering, Gillplay, Heart Quadrant, Light Bondage, M/M, Nook-fingering, Psionics, Pure Smut, Smutty, Teasing, hornplay, matesprits, perfection, redrom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:59:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time your matesprit has mercy on you, you’re chirping and writhing under him, inner thighs and the cleft behind your nook soaked with genetic material. Your bulge has long been coaxed out from behind it’s sheath, and you’re practically crying from how bad you want-no, need-him in you. </p><p>Alternatively, Eridan and Sollux pretty much just pail each other's' thinkpans out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> They need more smut. Cute, good smut. I like it.

By the time your matesprit has mercy on you, you’re chirping and writhing under him, inner thighs and the cleft behind your nook soaked with genetic material. Your bulge has long been coaxed out from behind it’s sheath, and you’re practically crying from how bad you want-no, need-him in you. You need that stretch, his fingers aren’t enough, they can’t get deep enough to that spot in you, and you’re wild with need. 

You’ve already let him drag your mating call out from your throat a few times, the high keen loud enough to make him wince over you even as he keeps fucking you with his fingers. His free hand plays over your rib-gills, fingers dipping under the thin membranial skin and into the slits, claws working there until you scream his name. 

He’s got your own hands bound together with your scarf, and you tug helplessly against the psionics holding them up there against the headboard. His smirk, devilish and cocky, is shoved against your neck-gills, peppering the delicate gashes there with swipes of his double-tongues. You whimper when he finally rubs up against your sweet spot, up to his final knuckle with three fingers in you, stretching mercilessly. 

He chuckles gently as you buck your hips and snarl at the way his claws catch inside you, sheathed and not dangerous but just enough to make your hair stand up along your arms. It’s so good, you can’t get enough of him, even though his scent, his warmth, all of him is just all over you. 

Before you know it you’re sobbing, chest heaving violently, and finally, finally, he pulls his fingers out of you. You bite down on your bottom lip and squirm, rubbing your thighs together and curling your toes. Slowly, he hauls himself up over you, reaching down to align himself, and begins to push in. You moan, long and low and wanton, letting him know how grateful you are for his girth inside you. 

It hurts a little, but in a good way, and briefly, you’re reminded of your days as his kismesis. The thoughts are torn from your mind by his growls, his hands finding your hips and lifting you up, his psionics helping to keep you there. He slides home in you, sheath-deep, and leans down to catch your mouth with his, and you pretty much just slobber all over his chin. He sniggers and breathes you in heavily, then exhales and begins to move. 

You mewl at the first thrust and groan at the second. His claws start to dig into your hips, and he angles so he can thrust deeper, tucking his knees under your ass and holding you up so you’re nearly bent in half. The position stretches your muscles, and you moan again, toes curling tighter as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

His smile touches your forehead briefly before he starts up a slow, easy rhythm, and you swallow, humming a little. It feels so good, so perfect, the ebb and flow of his bulge in you is perfect, and you can’t deal with the way he’s taking you. 

You tug at your bound hands and gasp his name, eyebrows creasing together with frustration because you can’t touch him and you want to touch him because he’s beautiful and feels perfect. The slow burn of arousal that’s been coiled in your stomach and nook and bulge begins to tighten, and you rock your hips, trying to urge him to speed up. He complies, speeding up and moving a little harder. 

You hear a scream and slowly recognize that it’s yours, and he hisses, low and dark, about how tight you are. You don’t really understand what he’s saying, so you just sort of buck against him, begging. He roughens the pace a little, thrusting harder. The sounds your bodies are making are almost amusing the slickness of your nook actually suctioning at his bulge to draw him deeper. 

He cries out and adjusts himself inside you, moving so he can actually piston his hips, fucking you good and hard. Briefly, your think of getting a pail, because this is filthy, your genetic material already spilling, leaking between you and him and on you and on him and it’s disgusting but it’s so hot so you decide not to. 

He’s begun to move faster while you were distracted, and you hiss and gasp and gulp through your gills for air. You’re not sure if it’s his bulge or your level of desire, but he’s bringing you higher and higher, and you can’t deal with it, it’s too much and all of a sudden you’re coming, screaming and tugging at your bonds. 

He cries out as you convulse around him, spilling violet all over the place, and he hisses, filling you up. He heats you up from the inside out, and you’re more sated than you’ve ever been, and it’s perfect. He’s perfect. You love him. Even though he is a fucking tease.


End file.
